Scene #7817: XiMae's Bizarre Social

Owner	Pose
Lilian Rook	Even though everything sounds cryptic when spoken in any language that gets 'proto-' added to it in the modern day, the ghost of Knight Aoibheil had actually been about as helpful as could be. The basics of her directions can literally pinpoint something through Xion's smartphone map application. The advantage of dealing with gigantic pieces of ancient cultural cornerstone mythos like these is that ~~in Eurasia~~ there is ample documentation of the 'real world' portions of them. Also, because Xion, the issue of 'the entirety of the northern UK is overrun and abandoned' also isn't one. It couldn't possibly be easier for her to forge a Corridor to those spooky castle ruins by the empty seaside, choked with lushly red and blue-black 'foliage' as it may be now. The hard part is 'getting to the other side', but, well . . . Also, Xion. And also also, Tamamo. Failing 'waiting and praying for a midnight sea fog', Lilian had even shown her exactly the places to look for, to get between Here and There. The subtle signs of natural confluence, coincidence, and perversion, in the grand yet out of the way places that denote roads into older places --the 'eyes to see' of a mountain hermit, put towards roads and paths instead of sacred spaces. Between the two of them, it won't take all that long to find the right standing stones, fairy arch, or divine barrow, to then metaphorically knock the door down. Not in this place. However, unlike the glitter-bright shores Tamamo was shown before, this lonely isle surely lives up to the 'shadow' in its name. The castle on the other side has never been touched by the ravages of time, baroquely carved and flush in banner, yet somehow still deeply austere. Soft, slightly wet earth is carpeted in all kinds of flowering vegetation coiled together in blooming semi-chaos, but it's almost as if looking at it in greyscale, more a 'memory' of riotous colour lingering on each petal and berry and thorn. The trees feel as if they go up forever, with no sign that one has fallen or been replaced in an age, creating ample, stark shade from a bleach white sun overhead in a gleaming, colourless silver sky. The steelbrushed air faintly glitters as if a million motes of dust refused to touch the ground, their miniscule light and shadow almost like film grain. Down near the coast, where there are no waves at all, harsh, violent sounds carry up the quicksilver shore, from a place overlooked by a rocky cliffside studded with utterly gigantic bones. However, a single pale candle flame flickers in an empty chamber of the castle keep's upper tower, painting faded red-gold warmth onto an otherwise blackened window.
Xion	The mode of summoning had been very simple: Xion had done away with the simple methods of communication, not thinking or trusting her need to a phonecall or text message to an It's Complicated. To those among the It's Complicated community, Xion used a parcel service. While travelling the Corridors of darkness, between moments, she had paused in the middle of the roiling-dark liminal space, lit in black so deep the purples and reds that made it up became the 'light' spectrum upon the other side of seeing. And gotten out a small, riotously red berry from her black coat pocket, cracking it in her teeth and tossing it into the nearby space, where it tumbles weightlessly until-- A sharply-white moogle, with a riotously pink and neon yellow banded pom, suspicious squinties, and a pair of fluttering batwings appears. It looks squinting eyes at Xion, and then whips out a comedically long nail file out of nowhere and begins sanding gently at its other suggestion-of-fingers. "You go-tta thing, kupo?" The moogle asks. Xion nods, offering a dull-even-in-darkness cardstock letter to the moogle. "The address is on the card." There is a dull-metal pattern on the front of the envelope. The moogle shrugs, grabs up the letter, and twists away, off into the deeper darkness. Xion sighs, and carries on. It reads: Tamamo. I was a terrible fool, and said terrible, foolish things that I thought were words of support. I thought I was honest and kind to her, and I think she has left to do the worst to herself. I'm coming now to get you, but I can send a letter faster then that. What happened was. . . And then the paper keeps coming out of the letter that Tamamo finds on her desk - a jet black envelope with a gold foil sticker sun holding the flap down - with enough time to read it. Inside, the paper is black, written with a flowing silver script that shifts and twinkles across the page. There had been a loud 'poof', an obnoxious "Kupo Express, There With Time To Spare, Kupopo~." From someone working magical parcel service in the month of December but paid for a certain Ritual Of Sending And Receipt. That had been some time ago. Now, they stood on the far shore, and Xion tapped her foot with all the impatience of a speedster at a dead stop. "Lilian first, right? Aoibheil said right to her, head bowed, make our case, and leave with her. Let's just talk to her and leave together. Right?"
Tamamo	Things have been unusually busy for Tamamo, recently. This is largely because, despite having, in theory, more time to herself, it's been the case that someone who was invited, and many people who were not, had attempted to enter and leave the mansion in which she resides without leaving signs of their purpose. Suffice it to say that they failed to avoid Tamamo's attention, and it was of great interest to her to turn her talents of divination toward discovering every thing they had done or said. Xion's letter, at least, does save her some time, and avoids much need to hassle very old ghosts in sacred family grounds. Tamamo is grateful for that, but it's still the case that when she does meet with Xion, it doesn't take a mind reader to see a kind of non-physical exhaustion, a weariness of feeling too much, too quickly, and the etched signs of concerns that have since evolved into worries. A mind reader shouldn't be able to tell, for that matter. Tamamo possesses defenses specifically for foiling such. They're simply not in evidence, now, as she makes no attempt to hide from Xion how she's feeling. It's because it's Xion that she doesn't feel the need. "I had not thought I would interrupt her, here. Even knowing what I now know, and having seen what I have now seen, it pulls at me. If I demand she leave be, have I not acted as a parent who trusts not their child? Would that I could see myself in your own position, and as you see. A friend may warn another of a mistake, without worry. And yet, I had thought to trust in whatever decision she should make, and walk whatever path it is she wished." She doesn't have to say it pains her. It's clear in her voice. Even in these circumstances, just being here at all is like going back on a promise. Whether it was a promise she'd spoken aloud doesn't matter. "We shall find her, and speak to her, and see what comes, and whether she should be willing to see as others have." To be in a situation of speech sounding like 'an effort' is far from her usual. "I may need rely on you overly much, today." Then, "Thank you." Hardly whispered, "She promised, it would not happen again."
Xion	"It's alright, Tamamo." Xion answers, after a moment, pulling her hood down. "I think we all wanted that. To trust her. It's love, to let people do things. To allow, to permit, to give up to the other. Our feelings. Our vulnerabilities. Our gentleness. It's love to believe in another. And you're the sun!" The noirette, tone lifting, turns her head and places a gloved hand on Tamamo's arm supportively, offering a smile that doesn't follow to her eyes. It cannot. Perhaps for both of them. "It matters that you're here. If it comes to it..." Xion turns to the sounds of battle and starts walking. Her fists ball, and from her sleeve, the sound of a keychain sussurates. "... I'm prepared to handle what needs to happen."
Tamamo	"Yes," Tamamo says, and her lips pull upward for the smile that doesn't touch her brow. "'That is love,' I had thought, and so I hope it is, still. 'Love is many things,' one could say, but what useless wisdom that would be. I would know what those things might be. If to love is to allow and to trust, can love be to deny and hold back?" And yet, despite her remaining confusion, some of that shadow does leave her at Xion's words and touch. Slowly, she shakes her head. "My apologies. These, among many words, are ones I should have given earlier, if at all. We should not tarry, as was said. And yet, neither are we like to avoid the mistress of this place, if we expect to find her together with Lilian. To the sounds from that still and silent shore, shall we go?"
Xion	"That's right. Sometimes, the person you love is doing something foolish, and love is a denial. Sometimes, the people you love act in ways that hurt you, and you must tell them to stop." "Love's so difficult. I don't think most people get it... But the pain won't go away if her heart is trimmed and shaped. The aches don't... they don't leave you." On the path to the sounds of battle, Xion clenches a fist and lifts it to her lips to chew on the edge of her thumb and ponder. A moment of mentally putting her all-and-then-some behind a thought, and then a nod. "I think I've got it, though. We'll just have to find her first."
Lilian Rook	Given the dull lack of otherwise sounds in this heavy and grey place, not 'muted' or 'stifled' so much as expecting a photograph to play back sound, it should be a far more unpleasant surprise that those noises could have nothing to do with Lilian. There is barely a whisper of rustling grass on the air despite the melancholy and lukewarm wind. A recollection of a whiff of wild clover and cherry. To hear the clashing of frenetic motion powered by hot and pounding blood would otherwise mean . . . Well, it's a ways down from the castle to the beach, but not much of one. Just enough for casually misaimed bowfire to fall short of any windows, really. Deep shade thins out to thorny tangle, to lush grass, to bare earth, and then to dry, rasping sand, near water so quiet it cannot possibly be an ocean, but only a single, still pool far vaster than the imagination. The sand gradually submerges here, but to the north, further away, the ground rises up instead, until a white and craggy cliff is exposed to the half-remembered elements, dotted in dark pines, from which the faint call of an owl can be heard. On the beach itself, only the sounds of crows. The sounds of them, but no sight. Instead, the smell of salt and iron and blood. Bleached bones, torn from the ribcage of some fantastical sea beast that would dwarf any whale, have been driven into the ground like stakes here, split at their middle and ground flat atop, so that each forms a twenty foot tall and four foot wide pillar. They're arranged in a dense radial of overlapping circles --or is it a spirograph? the eyes play tricks looking at the design, in either case, creating a circular area which one could simply run and jump atop them, given dangerous falls between each and every one. The floor beneath them is not to be navigated. Thorns of nonsense wood so steep and sharp that they may as well belong to an oubliette are exposed to the air, slick with vividly red blood, where the roots and vines that bear them aren't choked out by a night-black mass of what seems to suggest 'a thick carpet of corpses', save lacking any smells or hues of rot. The commotion takes place at the top. Black shapes, human and quadruped, armed in all manner of ways, shades of warrior and beast, coalesce out of the air, and charge over the raised, spirographic checkerboard battlefield from all sides. Though they are little more than inky suggestions visually, the battle cries and furious howls they make, their screams and howls of pain and death, feel blood-curdlingly real; real as the sound of invisible crows feasting at their feet. Lilian --for it can only be Lilian-- navigates roughly the center, and wouldn't know the difference, for the thick blindfold wrapped over her eyes, leaving her with just the sound, the scent, and the hot splash of eerily unmuted blood. She hops from pillar to pillar with the precision of someone who has memorized their spacing to the centimeter, trusting absolutely in the surety of unthinking footwork. Each attack, each assailant, alone, in pairs, trios, or all sides, has no liminal space in which to adjust and flex and fudge action and reaction, and no space to share with them either should they close; the only way to fend off the endlessly repeating tide is to anticipate, intercept, and 'kill' each one the instant they're within the ideal band of her sword's reach, where they've left an adjacent pillar and seek to enter hers. Each success drops shadowy cadavers into the matted pit, adding up to being fully immersed in every trapping of death save sight --itself ruled out. Shadows of arrows are deflected and dodged with minimal motion, reprised with hot blasts of magic back and forth. Occasionally, a crashing boulder, or giant spiked long, swings out of nowhere and dissipates into the aether.
Lilian Rook	But amidst all that, she still stops just hearing two sets of living footsteps approaching, and at the exact instant she does, all of her 'company' pauses in freeze-frame. Lilian's hand hesitates at the corner of her blindfold. She glances up to the cliff, then back down, and unwinds it, walking towards the edge of the 'arena', and finally dropping down over the edge. She looks far better than when she'd left. Much more than the shape Tamamo had last seen her in. But that was part of the deception Aoibheil warned of, wasn't it? Granted, that's only in a certain sense. The sleepless wasting, the patched up burns, the brittle, cut up fingers, the shadows under her eyes; those are gone. Instead, countless cuts and punctures and bruises are in various states of healing all over her body, save for the bruise-that-wasn't on her face, which after weeks, has finally become nearly invisible. Wearing something as bleakly drab and practical as a tank top, black pants, and waterproof boots, is shocking to even look at on Lilian, but more or less sensible; there'd be no way to repair her combat skin here. Likewise, 'Lilian without makeup' is something even Tamamo barely ever gets to see, with no means of hauling months of supplies out here, though for the most part, a lack of subtle 'naturale' blush and contour just makes the healing slashes on her face --one across the bridge of her nose, one across her jaw, and one cheek to brow opposite-- stand out against a paler background. It certainly must have been some degree of accelerated time, because she's put on more tone than is possible in a little less than three weeks too. All that even looks the same is the hairpin, which she has still refused to remove, fastening where her hair is pulled up to prevent being soaked in blood. A moment's disbelief staring at Xion and Tamamo's faces turns into a flicker of a smile, which then slides right off her lips again. Despite the intensity of the way she stares at them, the clarity in her eyes doesn't seem to absorb whatever she is looking to see in them. Rudely, on approach, she reaches out, and with each hand, touches a face with each, hands following cheek and chin and nose like braille, until she finally sighs out: "It's really you? What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you why you shouldn't? Is everything alright?"
Tamamo	For any incarnation of Tamamo no Mae to move stealthily is more than a trace difficult, and under these circumstances, all the more so. This is not a land within the True Sun's sight, and as unfamiliar to her as any could be. 'It is as much an impression and memory of a land as anything,' she thinks, but doesn't say. Grass is brushed away in front of her robes, and earth and sand shifts with the impressions of her platform footwear, an uncommonly heavy footstep to her ears, in this place of so few sounds. On her head, like a crown, rests a golden flower and six butterfly hairpins, bringing the softest chime of bells should a single step be hurried, rather than taken with calmest grace. She is less than calm, now. The sights and sounds before her are things she soon understands, in both presence and purpose. Lilian reaches for her, and Tamamo reaches in turn, first for Lilian's hand, and then to trace around the edges of her healing wounds, touching only what remains whole, unbroken. "You have been hurt. And more." She hesitates, mouth open, but unsure which word to first speak. "No, not all is well, I think. None at home were hurt, however..." She does call it 'home.' "That incident did lead us both here, with words from your old mentor. I am sorry." Has she ever had the need to simply apologize to Lilian, before, with a look like that? Like she actually has something to be sorry for. But she doesn't explain why, without being asked, about either what occurred, or why she would have said those three words. Xion knows both the 'what happened then' as well as Tamamo's earlier confession regarding her own conflicted feelings, and as she had suggested, Tamamo won't object however Xion wishes to approach the matter. Handling this on her own is difficult to even consider, but her mind still works, and some words do finally come to her. "'To learn to no longer see what is before you.' Was this the training you required?" She doesn't sound disappointed, or even disapproving. There's only a poorly-hidden sorrow. An unspoken 'I hope my worry was truly nothing, after all.'
Xion	Each step hangs on Xion's shoulders and back, a weight that presses down on her like a tangible pressure and breaks down her arms. She has exhausted many of her emotional pleas, already, gathered up all the support she could, and fended off the worst of the problems left in her stead. She thought she was ready, but she wore her weariness like a cloak. Xion stands shock still at the overlook, and the freeze - an unnerving stillness, for her - breaks with the touch to her face. An understanding in touch. Xion felt a forward-falling sickness, and a depth to the bottoms of her eyes, and knew this as 'shock' or perhaps 'despair'. "I know, Lilian. But I couldn't help ask people who knew better how I should, and their answers made me realize I did the most terribly wrong thing." Her hand comes up, to press palm to back of knuckles, and her eyes waver. "Lilian. I wanted to-" She sniffs. "-tell you my favorite Law. Do you remember yours? You told me once, and it was very pretty. I got your..." Her chin dips. "... letter, and the key you sent me. Before you left. So I went to your house, and talked to the tree and Aoibheil. Listened to the stories I heard. Planted flowers. And I realized exactly how badly I failed you. Space, and... and time. You have these, already. You caught me, even though it was terribly hard for you, and I gave you such a terrible time for it, when I should have been so delighted your unsure hands found my back. You don't have to become any stronger to love us, Lilian. Please, remember." "I'm so sorry. I didn't change the rules on you. You didn't have to leave them aside for us."
Lilian Rook	For just a little while longer, Lilian maintains an ignorance that is a far cry from bliss, but is all the same a precious and fragile thing that supports her weight, like a sheet of thin and brittle ice over the bitterly cold lake that is the impending truth. Her breath hitches like the discarded starting note of a laugh at Tamamo's touch. "No no no, that's normal. I knew it'd be a rough time. Why are you surprised about that? And see?" she says, running her fingertip over her midsection and presenting it clean. "No fresh ones. That means I've just about mastered it. Once these are gone too, that means I'm ready." "I'm sorry for making you wait. Even if I did say I'd be gone. But . . . It's been tough, but it's been good, I think. I missed you. I really did. Every day. But being away from everything else, just this one goal, it's . . . helped." Lilian unconsciously rubs at her unmarred cheek, reassured by no longer feeling that phantom bloody bruise that worsened so many times. "What's the matter? You two sound as if you're so upset." The owl sound punctuates the restless pause just after. §None at home were hurt? Why would anyone at home be hurt? Nothing ever happens there. I reviewed a hundred different futures for the three real world weeks and nothing happens. Why would she be sorry for--§ The moment the comprehension dawns on Lilian's face is like staring at the sidewalk from the top of a skyscraper and seeing it suddenly lurch forward. Her hand on Tamamo's face reflexively clenches its fingers around her chin, on Xion's a claw against her cheek, then withdraws as if burnt a split second later. A sharp hiss is pulled in through her clenched teeth as she steps back from the pair of them, eyes widening, pupils contracting, blood trickling from corner of her lip where she's bitten it too hard. "No. No that's not-- There's no way they could. I checked and I saw that-- That's not what happened! Nothing happened! Everything is fine! I made sure!" Lilian's hands rise to her head, clutching at her temples as she stares between Xion and Tamamo while backing away. "They would. Wouldn't they?! They don't get it! They never did! An eye for an eye, right?! I should have-- I wish I'd killed them when I had the chance! Of course they wouldn't learn anything! They wouldn't think anything by the fact I didn't! They think they're special! They think they deserve to walk all over me! How did they-- Stupid! Stupid stupid! I'm going to--" Lilian stops, closing her eyes, pressing her fingernails into her skin, and pulling in a deep, deep breath. "How bad is it? Tell me how bad. I need to know." A slow, slow breathe out. A deep, deep breath in. Repeat. Repeat. "Yes. Yes. Ninth. I remember. I remember that. We talked. About things. It was late." Her brow furrows, then releases again a second later. "Caught you? Right. When that piece of shit hit you. You broke him out anyways. Maybe I should have killed him? But it wasn't on my mind at the time. I don't remember why." Lilian shakes her head. "No, no, that's right. You're right. I was wrong. The ninth isn't that important. I was wrong to obsess over it like that. I obsessed over it instead of taking care of you. And I left Tamamo alone when-- I LEFT TAMAMO ALONE WHEN--"
Lilian Rook	Lilian halts, opens her eyes, then claps her hands down on Xion's shoulders, staring intensely into her eyes without really making eye contact. "No, don't worry. It's fine. You don't have to cry. I'll fix it. You're safe now. I can fix everything and you'll both be safe." She reaches out and grabs Tamamo, pulling her into a tight squeeze, arms around her waist and the back of her neck. "I'll never behave like those things are more important than you again. That's why I'm doing this. Once I do this, I can make sure nothing can hurt you again." "It's not like that, Tamamo. I've been learning to see so many things I couldn't, wouldn't, before. If I can't stand to look at it, at the very least, the very very least, I should still be able to do it without looking. I was so proud of myself before, because I could stop anyone, do anything, and it felt like that was never going to change, and I could just be with wonderful people instead. But I kept starting things without finishing them. I left all these loose ends, too proud to tie them up, like that was unnecessary; that obviously everyone should see and know that I could easily. But knowing that I could isn't the same as doing. And it all piled up and now it's coming back and hurting you, and I'm so, so sorry." "I thought I was being gentle. I really did. I thought I was holding out my hand and someone would take it. But I was just being negligent. I'm sorry for leaving both of you in this mess."
Tamamo	"No person was hurt," Tamamo says, "and only some mess occurred in the library. I have been following the threads." But that's not really what's important, right now. It's what Aoibheil said then that concerns her most, now. Others can be dealt with in some manner. Her tone is distracted. If it hurts, Tamamo doesn't show it. The important pain isn't physical. Lilian's holding her, and it's wrong, but her arms still rise to hold onto Lilian, too. Her touch is far softer, though between the two, Tamamo is, certainly, the one less able to take it. "Do you remember, what it is you were doing, when you had looked away, Lilian? You did not recall your thoughts, when I asked you, after that. But, I do remember, now. You were taking your time to scare the cat who had come to help. You promised me, then, that it would not happen again. You remember that, no? And I forgave you. Of course I did. But, Lilian... can you truly be sorry for something, if you do not know what you have done, nor what you are doing? Do you remember what it is that I told you, before?" Even if Lilian doesn't want to hear this, Tamamo isn't letting go. "Would you defeat some great villain, or pass some trial, if you let go all that restricts you, and thought only of what your power may accomplish?" 'Perhaps,' she had said, back then. 'Would you be better for it? Perhaps not.' "And do you remember what you told me, then? I do recall, and these were your words. 'That if I started doing that, I'd never stop, and there'd be something terrible at the end of it.' To become a knight was the path for which you instead wished, to save you from that fate. And I, too, wished for you to find and follow this path, rather than the one of ease." She's not done. "Yes. It is so difficult, and you have worked so hard, and still, there are things that appear yet out of reach. 'A weakness to overcome,' did you think of yourself this way? But, please remember. These were your words, as well. 'How easy it'd be to demand people just take the knee already.' And if that is your wish, I would not deny it. I shall not begrudge you that, to demand of others that they treat you in seriousness, and give you your due, even though it be may be power worn gaudily, in some eyes." Her tone turns to a plea, and still she won't let go. "But we do not speak of that, now. My Lilian, do you know what you are seeing, and from what you avert your eyes? You may wish for the unchanging, but do you not hear how much further beyond your own fears it is that you have stepped? Never would I have heard you speak so, of loose ends, of taking that easy path of ending every threat, in full finality. What does it merit us that I should remain, if you are to move beyond my reach?" She explains, finally, "It was not because you had neglected to kill a foolish girl that I was hurt, then. If you wish to take blame for this, it can only be for this cause: You were distracted from one you wished to protect, by the thought of who must be killed, where none had needed death, at all." The sorrow and pain returns. "And though I say all this, I do not feel wise for its utterance. Had I useful wisdom, I would not what would soothe your pain, and what would open your eyes, and what would let you recall your path by the same warm light with which I view it. Had I such wisdom, I would have more than my love to offer, to ask that you fix your gaze upon myself, and upon those others who do care for you, a number I have found to be greater than you had imagined."
Xion	Lilian's fingers claw at Xion's cheek, and her smile deforms as her face is pinched and smushed. "Lilian. I received a letter." She explains, before the slayer steps away, to hold her head and creak in the wind of emotions. "Mmm. No. That's not true. I received two letters, on the same day." Xion speaks, voice hoarse. Her arms hug about her center, holding tight her coat against an unblowing chill that sets her shaking. A glance is cast to Tamamo, and for a moment Xion just watches the slice-of-a-goddess-who-is-the-goddess and her eyes reflect a candleflame twinkle. It is a lot. Too much. Her arms tighten around her chest. 'You're right. I was wrong. The ninth isn't that important. I was wro-' It comes from Xion, then, a hot exhalation of 'nnnngh-'. She rises to this, torture twisting her brow and bringing friction to the closure of her fingers around her biceps, and Lilian's hands drop on her shoulders, being looked At. Looked Past. Wavering, weary, fraying blues tremble towards unwavering greens, and Xion whimpers. "I didn't want this. Lilian. Oh Lilian..." She falls forward, her weight slipping past Lilian's grip, out of her hands, as she grips Lilian around the stomach, the crown of her head tremoring into the slayer's chest. "I thought your rules were strange, but all rules applied to the self are strange and arbitrary. Still, they helped you express yourself. All of them meant something to you. I asked you about them, and you were so surprised, so proud to have someone interested in them. You had a favorite. I knew, without asking, that you had a favorite. I wanted to hear it. You still remember." Her gloved fingers curl and twist, tension that strokes against Lilian's training-hardened back. "I received two pieces of mail, on the same day. Stuck together, a little, like they wouldn't be parted. A parcel with no letter - just a black, iron key, and memories that were almost too hot to touch. And a letter, without any mark on the parcel. Inside, was a message. By the last line, I knew. Calling me there. Knowing." Her voice drops to a breath, having to force out the syllables with her nose. "Only Lilian could know. Lilian, or someone who loved her. Called me to find the blades, but never to meet. Who could love Lilian so deeply, so completely, to deny her with love, and know?" "They said we should never meet." "The Lilian of a single moment. That's who I think sent it. I would so gladly love someone who would save you." "The letter said I would need new blades." Her hands jingle with keychains. "So I've brought them. I listened to the tree, and your teacher, and your house, and all the things that love you." She doesn't shift to draw apart, instead reaching her hand out to grasp Tamamo's, intending to draw the three into a shared hug. "I know its your power, Lilian, to hear hearts too. I thought, so foolishly, that I couldn't feel your strong heart, and wanted so desperately to be a sister to you, and live in a simple world of smiles." As she speaks, other 'arms' join the hug, supporting branches and roots lightly holding while a parallel-leafed crown of braided ash branches loops about her head. From the light cast by the Sun, marks across the trio, sympathetic marrings and ugly gashes resolve into patterns of brilliant gold. What time had forgotten and skin and muscle ahd bonded, the light of life finds purchase. "I learned the language of trees, for you, and ate a berry from the farthest flowering branch of winter. And the Rowan said: A cutting, alive, can still become the tree, but it must grow. Even if you've cut yourself to a splinter, it's all still there. Touch us, Lilian." "Touch us, and listen, and know. You can. You're allowed. Feel, if touch is all you have. And I'll tell you what I remembered and learned:
Xion	Xion looks up, and smiles. "I remembered to tell you my favorite law. It's the fifth one. The form of man has no end." "What I learned, from Aoibheil, was her favorite law. The sixth." "Power bled for is power earned. The scars are how you wear your power without being gaudy. The scars are how you show you've lived. I've seen it, Lilian. I can't deny it. Let's heal. Look in us, and find your answers." Closing her eyes, Xion lets her head fall, and leans on Tamamo. "Look in us. Please." "Join hands with magic and mirror. The color will be brilliant."
Lilian Rook	Do you remember, what it is you were doing, when you had looked away, Lilian? The Lilian that has her face buried in Tamamo's neck, glued to her body as if she would disappear if her touch relaxed for a second, has no thought of lying. She has no thought of thinking extra thoughts either. She says without a moment's hesitation, "No I don't--" and then loses track of the rest, because for a single gut-twisting instant, Lilian remembers that she does not 'just forget things', ever, and at least she has to doubt even her own mind. But, Lilian... can you truly be sorry for something, if you do not know what you have done, nor what you are doing? Do you remember what it is that I told you, before? It has to be herself, because here, now, it can't be Tamamo. It can't be Xion. If it's gotten that far, then there's nothing left for this training but to go completely mad. Lilian's fingers clutch fistfuls of Tamamo's clothing, one hand squeezing the back of her neck in silent, blood-frozen panic, before she recalls. Not that moment, but the night they talked about it together. And do you remember what you told me, then? I do recall, and these were your words. The day she had first told Tamamo everything. At least, that which she thought she could take. That wouldn't cause that glowing, positive, 'everything makes sense' feeling she gets from Tamamo to dry up and wither into a cold trickle of pity. That's safe. It's all safe inside her head. Even if she's forgotten where she put it. Lilian remembers the word for the opposite. She'd heard it when she was sixteen, and stopped trusting her parents since. You may wish for the unchanging, but do you not hear how much further beyond your own fears it is that you have stepped? "I know!" Lilian finally replies, her voice little more than a hoarse fry in Tamamo's hair. "I know it's bad! I know I never wanted to be here! But I remember, too, back then, that I said I knew the day was going to come eventually! That I just hoped I'd be strong enough to deal with it by then. I never wanted hurt anyone that badly. I still don't! I know that I'm here, not because it's the best choice, Tamamo, but it's the only choice I have!" Lilian pushes herself back, hands around Tamamo's waist, just staring, pleadingly, into her eyes. "I said that would only happen if I failed. That people only need to do that-- this, kind of thing, if they screwed up, or were too weak-- and I did screw up! I wish everything could have stayed perfect forever. I wish it could still be like in Kamar-Taj. But I let the wrong things happen without thinking, and now at least, if this is all I can do, I want to make it go back to that way after. I don't want to be here, but I have to. Do you get it?" "The way things were before. Not before before, but before now. That . . . things could only be that way because I was sure. That the way I was, I could be strong enough to be gentle. There was never any doubt in my mind that I could do anything I wanted, that there'd be nobody who could stop me, but I was selfish, and thought 'I don't want to pay those prices', the ones that it'd take, because even if they were little, they'd all add up. Even I . . . Even I can just run out. I can't keep doing this with the stamina I have. That woman changed it. She and hers. It's too heavy! I'm exhausted! And I can't wait years to get strong enough to carry that weight without strain too; by then there'll be nothing left of what I care about! So I have to get rid of the weight! I can't live with this in my life, Tamamo! If I get rid of it, then things can go back to normal! Everything's going back to the way it was before before and I can't stop that unless--"
Lilian Rook	"I can't rely on anyone else for this, Tamamo. They're already gone, or I can't risk losing them too. This is it. I don't know what else I can do. Please. This is the only thing I can think of." --and upon those others who do care for you, a number I have found to be greater than you had imagined. "I didn't want this. Lilian. Oh Lilian..." There's a moment where Lilian shuts her eyes, screwing up her face, and can't even look at Xion. Her shoulders shudder. A noise rises, chokes, and dies, in her throat. "Nobody wants this, Xion. Nobody wants me like this. I don't want me! The me that has to struggle and try, who screws up and has to say sorry-- Everyone thinks they want that, like they'd understand it better, and be closer, but they don't and they can't! Not just-- It's not just that they don't want it, Xion, but they wouldn't survive it in one piece." "Everyone wants, needs, the perfect me! Not this! The one they can rely on and admire, or failing that hate and be jealous of at least! They need the me they can scream at and throw their fists at and demand help from later and it won't even leave a mark! Not the real one! Nobody else wants me! I know that already! I just can't help it! Not this one time! Please just look the other way. Go to sleep and wake up when it's over, Xion, I'm begging you." "Nobody wants the human me. They want the better version. And I do too. But I can't be better like this, with that wall in the way, and I can't climb it the hard way this time. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten attached to you. I could say that. I could say that I should have waited, until I was absolutely sure I was strong enough to carry everyone effortlessly, to start making bonds. That this was bound to happen. But I did, and I can't unbond them now. And I can't go back to not having them. So I have to break this one wall down, and accept that I failed, and pay the price, and pick up what's still left for me afterwards." "The Lilian of a single moment. That's who I think sent it. I would so gladly love someone who would save you." "So I've brought them. I listened to the tree, and your teacher, and your house, and all the things that love you." "I know its your power, Lilian, to hear hearts too. I thought, so foolishly, that I couldn't feel your strong heart, and wanted so desperately to be a sister to you, and live in a simple world of smiles." "Touch us, and listen, and know. You can. You're allowed. Feel, if touch is all you have." This time Lilian grabs the both of them. Not by the face, but by the waist, so she can pull the entirety of both as close to her as physical limits will allow. Her head hangs on neither shoulder, because then she'd only inconvenience them by getting them wet. She can't help just a peek, and even that light alone is blinding.
Lilian Rook	"I really don't deserve either of you. But at the same time, I can't let go of anything. I'm really selfish, aren't I? I'm so selfish that . . . I know what I have to do is going to hurt me. It's going to hurt a lot. And I might not be the same after. But I want to be the same. For Tamamo. For you. For . . . Ghhhh . . ." "So I thought I should get numb first. Reduce the pain as much as possible, and hope it scarred less, so I could still be beautiful for you. I was that selfish. But I'm still scared that, maybe, it won't wear off after. And wouldn't that be even worse? Someone I care about, just like you Xion, told me over and over, about getting cold to avoid hurt. So many times I got tired of hearing it. And it still didn't sink in, it seems." A long, guttural sigh follows. "But for the people this precious, I should be willing to get hurt a little. Don't you think? They alone should be enough to struggle through it somehow. Heroes are supposed to get hurt, aren't they. If you think that's better . . . If you can accept me with an ugly scar after, then, I think . . . I'd rather do that. If that's okay." Looking past Lilian, not far away, but high above, a black silhouette against the grey sky stands at the edge of the cliff, looking down. A woman's long hair and soft cloak, stirring faintly in the memory of a breeze. The shape of a spear and a sword and a bow and a staff and a wand and a dagger strapped to her person. Gleam-white eyes in the dark, fixed on the scene in silence.
Tamamo	Tamamo takes Xion's hand. The three come together. Even in a land of shadow, there's still the Sun, in part. Even with her palpable sorrow, there's still warmth. That doesn't change, no matter the strength of Lilian's grip. It wouldn't disappear if she'd relaxed, but a lack of belief in that goes uncriticized. "Do you know... have I told you, of why it is that I am only as I am? I have told you, Lilian, of my Question, of the reason by which I came to exist. I do sometimes forget some thing, and so, I do not recall, if I have ever said why it was that She of the White-Gold Face could not send a greater portion, instead, some grander being than I am. I ended that life by another's enmity, did you know? Surely, then, one would think, a power unrivaled would be better." Her own touch is softly gently, even now. "The reason is so simple, you may feel free to laugh. It is really only this. 'One cannot embrace the whole of the Sun.' A flame that lights the world is too much for a human. What use is a body up to which you could see only the toes, if even those would burn you? I wish to be no more than I am, and need be no more than I am, even in this weakness." She does not mention the further issue of Amaterasu's dangerous personality, both because this isn't the time, and because she doesn't like to think about it. One's eyes would burn away before they saw deeply enough to find that one's love. "For you, I know, your quest is different, yet still, it makes me wonder, what it truly is for which you wish. How strong must one need to be? What perfection is enough? I met a warrior, once, who claimed to have conquered all things, such that there remained no wars to wage. Beauty and perfect power, she had, but nothing of humanity." Nothing, at least, of the qualities of humanity that drew Tamamo's story to begin. "I do not know the hearts of others. Even here, I can only claim to know a sliver of Xion's heart, at most. What wonderful mysteries they are. I cannot speak to the truth of how many would truly see you, were you to truly show yourself, as you are. I can only say that I would accept you. When I heard of those you had hurt, I thought, 'she must have had some good reason for this,' and wondered why there should be words otherwise. Only in the case of Muramasa, when I spoke to him, did the worry grow within me. And yet, and yet..." Golden eyes move. "Oh, Xion, would you call me a fool? I would not blame you, for the truth is this." Her attention lingers on a hairpin, slides downward, and her eyes close. "Lilian, I shall love you still, through your scars, your mistakes, and your failures. I do not believe I could stop myself. Even should you strip away your own humanity, though I would not be unscathed, I would remain with you. 'So long as you live' is not too much to ask, I think."
Xion	Xion sobs messily but quietly, her eyes dribbling. The blinding light of their contact prisms out around them in a vast assortment of colors and textures, from bright streaking gold to coiling near-visible waves of infrared and ultraviolet. Hide her eyes all she might, this close, even trimmed wood can feel the heat. "I know, Lilian." Xion blubbers. "I know, I know, I know. I'm terrified of the people that want the 'better' version of me, too. Don't you remember? Every person like us is just looking for a way to make the... the broken things we have line up. I know, Lilian." "How hard it is. But I want the human you. I won't deny my sister what she's earned. I won't." In the faded and unreal place, Xion is aware of eyes on her. She feels the tug, the chill, from past the halo of light the trio casts. She thinks of the eigth law. It becomes easier to follow the logic of the place with a gentle sigh. "Since it's so hard, I'll let you borrow my power, Lilian. Then you can face them all, and return to us, a Lilian of a million moments." She leans in to whisper, as Tamamo finds a hairpin, and so the size of sun that's huggable gets to hear as well. "The three rules of the hero of everyone's hearts, X:" "Try your best, even when it's hard, when hearts are on the line." "Open your eyes, and reach as far as you can." "You are your own heart's hero too." Xion forces a supportive squeeze. "Not so different, right? To protect Xion, and Tamamo, and Lilian, I'll love whoever comes back to us, and the house that waits for her." "Selfishly, if I may make a request." "I'd like the disciple everyone wants to see succeed to return. I was ready to wait at home for you, Lilian! I was ready..." "I'm ready for Lilian to be Xion's hero. Please come home to us. That's all we want."
Lilian Rook	Lilian is silent, for a little while, because she needs the time in order to be able to use her voice again. For anything other than miserable choking, at any rate. Then she is silent for a little while longer, not because she needs the time to think, but because she has to recall at least some of the words that she used the one time she felt she had explained herself right. And then she replies, at least, to Tamamo: "It's not about . . . the strength to 'not fail'. To win, and to take, to to keep. I have that. It's about . . . Holding things. If you're holding something delicate in your hands, it takes a lot of concentration to take care of it. And if something scares you, or you hit your shin and it hurts, or something makes you really, really angry, you'll flinch, or tense up, and then you've crushed it, because your hands are strong and it's so delicate, and now it's smashed to pieces and you can't ever put it back together. Being so strong . . . so strong that nothing is scary anymore, and nothing can hurt you-- that means you can always be relaxed, and calm, and never flinch or tense up, and then delicate things are safe in your hands." She grows distant again, for just a moment of recollection. 'Lilian, isn't there anyone you want to stay human for?' "Everyone is so delicate to me, Tamamo. Everything is fragile and helpless that it scares me. But that love has to be the least fragile thing I know." Finally, against all odds, Lilian makes a sound that definitely resembles a runny-nosed snort-laugh, at least for one breath, after Xion. "Yeah. Those are good rules, Xion. I like them. I like them a lot. They sound reliable." She flinches a little bit at the squeeze, but remains tightly glued to the pair. "You've more than earned the right to ask anything you want from me. So I suppose I owe you at least that. I owe the both of you . . a lot." Slowly, with great reluctance, Lilian releases her hold. A thumb comes to her cheek, wiping away beaded moisture on her eyelashes. She can't help, then, but to throw herself back on Tamamo, arms folded around her neck, and to take her lips in a moment of overflowing emotion, despite onlooking company. But even when she extricates herself from that tangle, Lilian's fingers drift to Xion's hair next, and she leans down and kisses the shorter girl on the cheek, and then forehead, as well. "You should probably go." Lilian says, finally showing the first sign of registering else. While she can see the women in front of her, she can feel the one behind her on the back of her neck. "Don't worry. I'll follow soon enough. It'll be even sooner to you. There's one little thing I have to take care of, but I think . . . I think I'm done here. It won't be hard for me to leave, but it'll be tough for you if you stay any longer." "I'll miss you. Even if it's not for very long."